


i bet i taste him in your blood

by myloveiamthespeedofsound



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: AU, F/M, Jealous Steve, M/M, Multi, OT3, Smut, all the steve feels, because feels, but lots of feels, let's be real, the smuttiest thing I've written, tumblr prompt fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-05-23 06:52:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6108576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myloveiamthespeedofsound/pseuds/myloveiamthespeedofsound
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's unexpected consequences of finding Bucky, ones Steve couldn't have even dreamed of realizing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a tumblr prompt from @uncoolguy: Steve becomes jealous when he finds out about Natasha's past with Bucky.
> 
> Post AOU but before Civil War, AU in the sense of trying to make some comic canon work in the MCU.

_And how about this for a good one_  
_Maybe we don't ever come down_  
_I can leave the wound wide open_  
_And maybe see if I can tough it out_  
_Let it pour over my head_  
_All your shame and your history_  
_And see if I say a thing  
As it rolls up inside of me_

 _And you must've met a man_  
_Tall and handsome at that_  
_Who must've put a spell on you, baby_  
_And must've kept on coming back_  
_Cause I can smell him in your skin_  
_I bet I taste him in your blood_  
_Must be all the young boys, baby_  
_Lady killer got the two of us_  
_Lady Killer - The Horrible Crowes_

 _A long time ago, Natalia Romanova made me remember what it was to feel human_  
and they punished us both for that

* * *

The place is a shithole and Steve knows it - but it was the only place he could find that took cash, didn’t need a credit card to take the room and didn’t ask questions when he dragged in a bruised, bloodied, mess of a man with a metal arm.  It reeked of things Steve would rather not think about, and he could hear the couple next door going at it between the thin walls.  It’d been two days since, after nearly two years of dead ends, a lead finally panned out and he found Bucky in a broken heap in the middle of an abandoned warehouse in New Mexico.  Four days since Steve Rogers, Captain America and everything that entailed, vanished from his Brooklyn apartment without so much a note.  He’d ditched his cell phone, the last transaction on his bank account was a withdrawal at an ATM a block from his apartment.  He knew there would be hell to pay when - if - he made his way back.  Everything had started to disintegrate in the months after Sokovia and he knew he picked a hell of a time to fall off the map.

Right then though whatever capacity Steve Rogers had left in him to care anymore (which had gotten smaller and smaller with every day that passed and the realization that HYDRA’s stretch was farther and deeper than they could have ever imagined - the sobering realization the government that currently breathed down his neck for accountability was one that no longer had it themselves, that the very idea of the America he had fought for didn’t _exist_ , and maybe never had) didn’t care about that.  Instead it funneled solely into the man that laid on threadbare sheets that covered a mattress that sagged, a man who slept pitifully as the night went on.  Every toss and turn, every small noise and grunt was watched carefully.  So much so that Steve almost missed the soft knock at the door.

Almost.

He peered through the peephole and let his forehead fall against the door at the sight of Natasha.  Steve was a soldier, he wasn’t a spy.  He knew enough but it’d nagged in the back of his mind the past four days that he didn’t know _enough_ to hide his trail from her.  He just hadn’t been sure she would have followed it.  They had never defined where they were.  They weren’t friends, friends didn’t fuck each other every night, Steve had friends and they sure as hell didn’t fall asleep curled up into him like a lifeline.  They weren’t _together_ \- they didn’t go on dates and they didn’t tell anyone what they got up to.  They were in some gray area in between, an area that had been getting greyer and greyer as the pressure from Washington and the world intensified - as they slowly started to realize that maybe when it all came down the line they’d be on opposite sides of it.

  
He slid the bolt open regardless, and cracked the door open enough to slip out and closed it behind him.  It takes about two seconds for her to start.  
  
“What the hell, Rogers?” she seethed.  She stalked toward him, pressed her hands against his chest and shoved him back against the door.  Pissed was an understatement.  “You just _leave?_ ”  She hated the way her voice cracked on the word.  Angry, you’re angry, she reminded herself again.  You’re not _hurt_ , this isn’t love, this isn’t anything, you _can’t_ be hurt, just be angry.  “No hey, Natasha, I need to go do something but I’ll be back soon, hold down the fort - God, Steve, we’re supposed to be partners - “ she continued, and her eyes flashed as he just _stood_ there.  “What the hell,” she repeated.    
  
“You should go, Natasha,” Steve said quietly, defeated.  He didn’t want to drag her into his mess.  Not _this_ mess.

“Like hell,” she said and pushed past him to open the door.  She stopped just a few steps inside as her eyes fell on Bucky - _The Winter Soldier_ \- on the bed.  She turned and pushed Steve back out onto the exterior hallway and pushed the door shut with her foot behind her.  Steve stumbled back and hit the rail of the balcony.  “ _What did you do_ \- “ Natasha hissed.  She’d known Steve had never really given up on finding Bucky - how could he.  This was just a hell of a time to actually _find_ him.  They were under the microscope more and more every day - and Natasha knew a little of the extent of the damage done to James, that what Steve found wasn’t his friend.  He was a former shell of a man and more volatile than she knew Steve would even believe.  A former shell of a man that she knew, intimately, a lifetime ago.  She felt sick, she should have said something before it had come this far.  Before it came out in a situation she knew she wouldn’t be able to explain herself properly in.

Steve met her hard gaze with one of his own.  “What I had to,” he said - evenly, cold, curt, and without an ounce of the warmth usually reserved for her.  
  
“You could have told me,” she accused as they stood on opposite sides of the hall, a standoff almost.  She inwardly cringed at the thought - what was happening to them.  When had the cracks started to form, when had he stopped being the one person she could trust and she to him.  And why did it hurt so damn much.  “I could have - “

“Could have what?” he cut her off.  “Help?”  He raised a brow as he looked at her.  “Would you have?” he challenged, his eyes narrowed as he looked at her.

“I - “ whatever she was going to say was cut off by the sudden scream from inside the room.  

Steve pushed past her and back into the room.  Natasha eyed the parking lot below for any bystanders and then followed Steve into the room, she bolted the door behind them.  She stood against the door and watched the scene before her.  The Winter Soldier - James, she reminded herself - thrashed on the bed and Steve tried his damnedest to hold him down.  There was a wild look in James’ eyes, frantic and _dangerous._  James’ hands beat at Steve and she winced at the sound of fists hitting flesh, at the vivid image of the way Steve had looked when they’d found him on the banks of Potomac that came unbridled to her then.  
  
She pressed her lips together and she could feel her nails prick her skin where the dug into her palms, her hands in tight fists at her side.   _You should have stayed lost._ Suddenly James’ hands were wrapped around Steve’s neck and Natasha bolted across the room.  She jumped on James’ back and grabbed at his hands - the flesh one yielded before the metal and she was sure it was only because he meant to let go that it happened at all.  She pried them from Steve’s neck and chanced a quick glance at Steve as he stumbled back once free.  It was in that moment that James reached behind him with his metal hand, grabbed her jacket and pulled her forward and over him in one swift move.  She winced as her back hit the ground hard and she wrapped her hands around his arm, his hand had moved to hold her to the ground by her neck.  “Stop,” she croaked out.  “Hvatit!” she repeated again in Russian and caught James’ eye.    
  
He hadn’t recognized her that day on the freeway - but from what little they had pieced together The Winter Soldier hadn’t been to his handlers in a long time now.  He might remember more.  She wasn’t sure which prospect terrified her more.  

James started down at her, long and hard, until his eyes flickered with recognition.  “Natalia - “ he breathed out and scrambled off of her.  

  
Natasha didn’t dare look at Steve.  She _couldn’t._ James stumbled back and sank onto the edge of the bed when his legs hit it.  Natasha breathed out slow and moved to kneel in front of him.    
  
“Do you remember - “ she said gently, first in English and then repeated again in Russian.  
  
Bucky glanced from her to Steve and then back again before he nodded.  He reached a hand toward Natasha - Steve immediately moved closer but stopped as Bucky’s hand fell just short of touching Natasha’s face.  Steve felt more than lost as he watched the two of them look at each other, a sick dread coiled in the pit of his stomach and ran through his blood.  He swallowed hard against the lump in his throat as Natasha reached her own hand out to touch Bucky’s face.  Fingers that only a handful of days had danced across his bare skin and brought him over the edge of pleasure now brushed dirty hair out of his best friend’s face tenderly.  Jealousy spiked in his heart as he watched them - as Natasha’s hands oh so gently pulled Bucky from his anger.  He felt sick with it.  Sick with the images that flooded his mind suddenly, vivid memories he had of Natasha as she came undone but under Bucky’s hands now, not his own.  He wanted to throw up.  He wanted to hit something, to scream into the night until his voice ran raw and broken.    
  
He stumbled back and hit the wall, his legs felt like jello, but he refused to give in and sink to the floor.  He could hear them talk quietly, and even with his eyes shut closed and a hand digging into his forehead he could still _see_ it.  Her knelt in front of him, that damn hand pressed to Bucky’s face.

_“I’m sorry, Natalia, they did things to you, unspeakable things because of me - because of us … “_

_“Shhh… it’s alright lyubov moya - I’m fine, I’m fine.”_  
  
_“I - I shot you - “_  
  
_“Wasn’t you.”_  
  
She calmed him, she did what he _couldn’t_ .  Lyubov moya - my love - it tormented him, tugged at every corner of his mind and he _hated_ it.  He pushed himself off the wall and stalked through the room to go stand outside once more.  He gulped at the night air, tried vainly to fill lungs that refused to cooperate.  He wasn’t sure what was worse.  The knowing that somewhere, somehow, she had been Bucky’s.  That every touch he’d given her, Bucky had given first, that every moan he’d pulled from her with his head between her legs, Bucky had heard first.  While Steve would be hard pressed to admit it even though he figured anyone would be able to _see_ it, there had always been a level of jealousy in play there.  Bucky - tall, handsome, never without a girl on his arm - and then his scrawny, sickly friend Steve.   _Of course_ somehow, somewhere, he’d had Natasha first.  Every sound, every look, every morning Steve had laid with her and traced patterns down her skin and dared to think he could love her - it was tainted, muddled.  It was a lie.  
  
Or was it that she could _fix_ him.  Was it that all of Steve’s shared memories with Bucky didn’t add up to whatever he’d had with Natasha.  Was it worse, the feeling that he failed and she could succeed.  That she knew Bucky better than him.   _His_ best friend and she was the one who got through.  He gripped the edge of the rail and clenched his teeth.  He loved Bucky, he was supposed to bring him back.  He was supposed to find the way to undo what had been done, to salvage the man left behind from the weapon HYDRA had created.  Or was he just going to fail Bucky in this too, like he had failed to keep him safe in the first place.  

Steve could feel it all coil inside of him, and the bitter jealousy raged like a fire.  Anger and resentment that he realized wouldn’t do a lick of good.  Still though, he wrapped it around himself and let it sink into his bones. He released his grip on the rail and let out a slow breath.  He knew he couldn’t hide forever.

He slipped back into the room.  It was calm as he locked the door, and when he turned he tried not to let that quiet rage that burned inside of him overtake as he saw them on the bed.  Natasha sat with her back against the headboard, Bucky’s head in her lap with his legs stretched long down the bed and over the edge.  Her fingers threaded through his hair and he could feel the ghost of the touch against his own scalp.  Anger - at both of them - mixed with his love for the both of them and settled deep in his very soul.  He couldn’t leave, and as she looked up at him from across the room he realized that neither could she.  

Steve moved to the bed and gently sat down in the space beside them.  He lifted his arm to wrap around Natasha as she moved to rest her head on his shoulder.  “I should have told you,” she said softly, and he could hear the guilt of it all in her voice.  

“It’s fine,” he said it, absolved her of the guilt that he _wanted_ her to feel - but he couldn’t.  He wasn’t supposed to be that person, he wasn’t supposed to revel in her guilt.  He wasn’t supposed to want to punish her for this.  So he shoved it as far down as it would go.  “What happened?” he asked before he could stop himself.  He didn’t want to know, but yet he _did._ “You called him - did you - “ a pause as he swallowed hard.  “Did you love him?”  
  
“Do you really want to know?” she asked, as though reading his thoughts.  He didn’t answer and after a long moment she took the silence as a yes.  Natasha let out a breath to steady herself.  “A long time ago they sent him to train me, we were weapons.  Monsters.  He didn’t even have a name.”  She paused and Steve could feel her body shake against him.  He pulled her in tighter.  “They taught us to kill - we taught each other to love.  It ended - badly.”  The truth was she hadn’t even remembered what James had meant to her until long after she’d left the Red Room and the KGB, until one afternoon in her new life as a SHIELD agent, free from the brainwashing and the indoctrination through harm, it flooded back.  

“I shouldn’t have come,” she said after a long moment.  

Steve wasn’t sure how to answer that, he didn’t _have_ one.  Would it have been better - to  never know.  To have disappeared with Bucky and never have the images of them together in his mind.  Would it have hurt less to have walked away from her and never see her again, but not know what she did.  No.  She was there.  He knew it was screwed up but she was _there_ and that was all that mattered.  “You can’t leave now,” he finally answered.  

“I guess we’re in this together then,” she said, and it was hard for him to read her tone right then.  Her hands still worked their way through Bucky’s hair.

Steve leaned down to press his lips to the top of her head.  “Looks like it.”  He leaned his head back against the wall behind them and let his eyes slip shut.  Bucky started to move again and Natasha started to sing softly, a Russian lullaby.  Bucky stilled and Steve could feel the rage that burned inside him start to quell at the sound of her voice.  The past four days caught up with him and with the warmth of her against him, the sound of her voice and Bucky breathing, he slipped into sleep.


	2. the middle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've been picking away at this since the first part was posted way back when. Got hit by a huge bolt of inspiration the past day on it. I have no idea when the third act will be posted, but it will get up eventually. For those who read the first part mind the change in tags.

_ When at first I learned to speak  
_ _ I used all my words to fight  
_ _ With him and her and you and me  
_ _ Oh but it's just a waste of time  
_ __ Yeah it's such a waste of time

_ That woman she's got eyes that shine  
_ _ Like a pair of stolen polished dimes  
_ _ She asked to dance I said it's fine  
_ __ I'll see you in the morning time

_ Ah Brooklyn Brooklyn take me in  
_ _ Are you aware the shape i'm in  
_ _ My hands they shake my head it spins  
_ __ Ah Brooklyn Brooklyn take me in

  
  
“Don’t,” Natasha said simply as she walked in on Steve in the washroom, razor halfway to his face already covered in cream.   
  
Steve raised a brow at her in the mirror, but dropped his hand.  “Don’t shave?” he clarified.  The stubble that he’d acquired over the past couple of days was still not beard status, but it was scratchy and uncomfortable none the less. He tried to never go too long without being clean shaven. 

  
Natasha shook her head as she started to pick up toss the little bottles of shampoo and conditioner from the shower into the bag Steve had taken with him when he’d left to find Bucky.  “You’re too recognizable,” she pointed out.  “Let it grow in, we’ll dye your hair darker when we get to the next motel,” she added methodically and tossed a washcloth at him.     
  
“You know Bucky’s got a metal arm, right?” Steve pointed out dubiously, but started washing the shaving cream off his face regardless.   
  
Natasha waited until he was done and she could catch his eye in the mirror again.  “James isn’t Captain America,” she pointed out and he swore there was a hint of regret in it.  It cut at him.  He knew what he was about to do, what he was about to turn his back on and in turn asking  _ her _ to to turn her back on.  The moment they left the motel and kept heading south instead of heading home nothing would be the same.  How could it.  He could excuse away a couple of days, they could spin some story and he could walk back into his life with barely a blip.  They couldn’t excuse what he was about to turn this into.     
  
He set the cloth down and turned to face her.  The washroom was small enough that it wasn’t even two steps to close the distance between them.  “Natasha…” he started but she shook her head before he could get anything out.     
  
“We’ll swap your vehicle, you’ve been in it too long, trade plates once we get across the border.  We can make it about halfway to Mexico City before we’ll need to stop again.”  Her hands had moved to curl against his chest as she talked, her eyes focused on the ground.  The gravity of what they were about to do was not lost on her.  The realization that she was about to become a ghost again was not one that hit her lightly.  She felt sick, weak somehow and she wanted nothing more than to collapse into Steve in the tiny, rundown, washroom.  They didn’t have time though.  

  
He watched her closely and  _ loathed  _ himself right then.  He knew what he was asking her to do, he knew how long and hard she had fought to just be  _ herself  _ \- and now he wanted her to toss that all out the window.  Was he really that selfish, was he really that far gone that he wanted her,  _ needed _ her, to stay when he couldn’t decide from moment to moment whether he wanted to kiss her or scream at her.  Half of him wanted to bury himself in her and beg her to stay, to give him the strength that he could feel failing at every turn.  The other half wanted to condemn her, to twist the knife of the guilt he could  _ still _ see so plain in her eyes.  He loved her and hated her all at once - just like he loved and hated Bucky all at once.

“You should go back,” he said suddenly as he let his eyes fall on her hands on his chest.  He tried not to think how many times those hands had nearly been the death of him in the most amazing ways possible.  He tried not to think about the way they’d threaded through Bucky’s hair as they’d laid with him all night.  He tried to shove down how angry he was at her, at Bucky, at the world, at his life, at  _ himself _ .  When had this happened, or had he  _ always _ been so  _ angry _ .  Had life  _ always _ felt like a battle.  He struggled to keep hold of what Erskine had told him -  _ but a good man. _  It felt further and further away with each passing day and it felt like the past twenty four hours had all but obliterated it.  Maybe it had never been there in the first place.  Maybe he had only been able to hide the anger - the  _ rage _ \- better back then.  Maybe he had only ever wore the   
mask of righteousness to absolve his own vehemence.

“You know I can’t,” she replied and finally looked up at him.  She looked broken by, but certain of the words and he  _ ached _ .     
  
_ Because you love him _ he almost said but caught himself before it could come out.  He knew it would only come out as bitter and as jealous as he felt.  He ducked his head and nodded.  “Okay,” he said instead.  A short pause.  “We should get going.”  He tossed his shave kit into the bag and grabbed it from her before he moved back into the room.  

 

__________________________

  
  


They emptied their bank accounts while they still could a few miles from the border - hitting up as many ATMs as they could in an hour.  Natasha ducked into a Walmart and bought supplies and she convinced Steve to go through the legal way -  _ no one is looking for us. Yet. _  They cross the border into Mexico as Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, and a situation they're trying to handle discreetly when the guard looked at Bucky.  A well placed smile and a  _ your cooperation would be greatly appreciated  _ from Natasha sold it and the poor guard didn't think twice as he waved them though.  In the days to come that would be listed as their last known whereabouts. Once through they moved off the main roads and onto lesser travelled paths.

They stopped several hours past the border, some old but serviceable gas station in the middle of nowhere.  It was hot and dry and even behind the shades pulled over his eyes Steve found himself squinting as he looked over his shoulder and out over the road.  Natasha had gone into the small store to pay once he’d finished fueling up the truck and to grab them something to eat and drink.  

_ “We still borrowing this one, Rogers?” Natasha had said with a smirk when he’d hotwired the older model Ford.   _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “Borrowing like Steve once  _ **_borrowed_ ** __ my gun back in ‘44,” Bucky pointed out dryly.  Natasha and Steve snapped their heads over to look at him, surprised by the quip, the first thing Bucky had even said all day.  Bucky just shrugged and tossed the duffel bags in the back and got in. 

Steve leaned against the side of the truck as he held the nozzle into the tank and let his eyes settle on the small store.  They’d cleared the border which had been the biggest hurdle, but Steve knew that wasn’t a reason to start letting their guards down.  He’d been gone nearly a week, Natasha nearly seventy two hours and now with them on record having crossed into Mexico and clearing out accounts?  Well, it wouldn’t be long until people started looking.  There was the nagging feeling that he’d made the wrong choice, that as much as he loved Bucky this was the  _ wrong thing  _ to be doing _.   _ He had responsibilities - to the team, to the world.  Could he really weigh everything his life had come to stand for against one man.       
  
As Bucky moved to lean beside him, the broken shell of a man he’d once known, Steve knew he  _ had _ to.  He closed his eyes as vivid memory threatened to overtake him.  Bucky’s hand outstretched, so close, but so far, his body as it fell.  It was as clear as the day it had happened, his eidetic memory providing nothing but crystal clarity.  Everything that had happened to Bucky happened because he hadn’t been able to save him.  He wouldn’t make that mistake again.     
  
“You don’t have to do this, Steve,” Bucky said quietly.  His own guilt at what Steve and Natasha were giving up was clear in his tone as he let his head fall.     
  
_ Yes I do. _  Steve looked at him.  “You’d do it for me,” he pointed out instead.  “End of the line, right?”

Bucky glanced up at that.  There was a certainty in Steve’s voice at the words, certainty he himself couldn’t be sure of.  Maybe the man he used to be would have done the same.  He hadn’t been that person in a long time though.  But Steve looked at him, expectantly, so he nodded and tried to smile, because it was  _ Steve. _  Even if Bucky felt a million miles from the man he once was, Steve wasn’t.  Steve would always be Steve, and there was a comfort in that.  “End of the line.”

The sound of the gas nozzle stopping broke the silence that followed and Steve moved to hang it back up.  He caught Bucky’s eye and gave his friend a soft smile before he lifted a hand to grasp around Bucky’s shoulder.  “It’s going to be okay, Buck,” he said softly.  Words Steve wasn’t entirely sure of, but he knew they would  _ make _ it okay.  That no matter what happened now, well, at least they had each other and that had to count for something, right?

Bucky held his gaze and a weighted silence settled between them.  Bucky couldn’t help but think about how in another lifetime he would lift his own hand, maybe place it on Steve’s, or turn in and make the subtle contact into a real hug.  Instead he dropped the eye contact and shifted as Steve dropped his hand.  “So - “ he started and let his gaze settle out toward the store where they could both see Natasha at the till.  “You and Natalia?” he asked.  He could remember the incident on the freeway - they had been together then.  He hadn’t recognized her then though, he had barely recognized Steve.  They were together now and he could feel Steve stiffen beside him at the question.  

“We’re friends,” Steve replied - and Bucky didn’t miss how rehearsed it sounded.  How quickly it was answered in a tone that reeked of trying too hard to believe it himself.  He didn’t get a chance to debate whether or not to push it though, or even decide  _ how _ he might feel about it, as Natasha exited the store and walked over to them.

“Hey, fellas,” she said as she walked up, a bag looped around her wrist and before either Steve or Bucky could question the polaroid camera in her hand she had lifted it up.  “Cheese,” she said lightly and pushed the shutter.  She pulled the polaroid from the camera and shook it as she moved to lean against the truck between them.  

“Really, Nat?” Steve questioned with a slight raise of his brow.  

“Really,” she deadpanned back and handed him the photo.  He looked over the image - he and Bucky with smiles that were barely that, more an ingrained response than anything else.  A vacant look in both their eyes, hollow despite the expression.  Tired in some soul crushing way that no amount of sleep would ever cure.  _ Thousand yard stare _ .  And it made them look about as old as they  _ really _ were.  Steve frowned before he handed the polaroid back to Natasha.  She dropped it into her bag along with the camera and the three of them climbed back into the truck and headed back onto the road.

 

__________________________

  
  


The motel they stop in for the night was better than the one Natasha had found Steve and Bucky in.  Worn and old, but cared for none the less, and while they’re all still more than on edge they breath a little bit easier once they settled.  Natasha had handed off a box of hair dye to Steve and he stood in the bathroom and turned it over in his hands.  There was a woman on the front, a big and fake smile plastered onto her face and he felt more than disconnected right then as the vacant eyes of the model stared up at him.  In some strange way it reminded him of the polaroid Natasha had taken. 

A smile that wasn’t a smile.    

_ The first rule of being on the run is don’t run, walk. _  Walking back then had been terrible shoes and hooded sweaters.  It felt like a lifetime ago.  Slowly Steve opened the box and set the contents down on the counter.  He unfolded the instruction sheet and his brow knitted as he started to read, and he reached for the bottles to confirm their names.

Bucky’s laugh broke his concentration, pulled him from the thoughts that threatened to drag him under.  “Do you have  _ any _ idea what you’re doing there, Stevie?” he asked from where he sat on edge of the bathtub. 

Steve chuckled and looked back at the other man.  “Does it  _ look _ like I know what I’m doing,” he countered.  

Natasha walked into the bathroom and glanced at Steve's confused expression as he looked over the instructions. She smirked and quickly mixed the developer and color before she pushed him toward the toilet and indicated for him to sit on the closed lid.  She slid the plastic gloves from the kit on and glanced between Steve and Bucky.  “It’s a damn good thing you two have me,” she teased lightly and started to work the hair dye through Steve’s hair.  

Steve’s eyes closed as her fingers ran through his hair.  Her touch was light, almost a massage and his mind drifted to the other times her fingers had raked through his hair.  The feather light touches as they kissed gently in the dead of night.  Stolen moments while they claimed to be just friends.  The sharp tugs she’d give as they came together, when the line between pleasure and pain was thin at best and they waltzed over it as they pulled each other apart.     
  
It was over all too soon and he heard the thud as the bottle hit the bottom of the garbage container.  His eyes opened and he held her gaze for a moment.  But she moved quick and grabbed a pair of scissors from the bag before she moved to Bucky.  Steve watched as she carefully cut his hair, the dead and tangled ends fell to the ground.  He seethed as Bucky’s eyes focused on Natasha’s face, at the desire that flickered in them, at the way he let his hands rest far down his knees and his fingers brushed against Natasha’s legs when she moved in close.  

He swallowed hard and tore his gaze away.  Glanced over to the bathroom door, down at the floor and then finally up at the mirror.  Natasha had moved to work on the sides of Bucky’s hair and when Steve let his eyes flicker up to the glass he caught Bucky’s.  Their eyes locked in the reflection.  The way Bucky looked at him stirred in Steve, pulled at desires he’d long since put away, memories he had tried so hard to forget.  Another time, another life.  An image of the fingers that curled around Bucky’s knees curled around his wrists as he pinned them down on a bed, an image of those fingers as they slid between his lips, the way they tasted as he wrapped his tongue around them…    
  
Steve dropped his eyes to the floor.  He felt flush with warmth, a heat he had long since put away that now coiled in the pit of his stomach and spread through him.  He shifted where he sat and then stood. 

“Hey, you have to rinse in about ten minutes,” Natasha called after him as he exited the bathroom.  He moved out the door of their room and leaned against it as he shut it behind him.  The air was warm but it felt less stifling than it had in the cramped bathroom.  He took his time outside as he tried to sort his thoughts out.  But it felt like only a minute or two when he heard Natasha call from him from inside the room.     


He showered quickly, just long enough to wash the road and hair dye off. When he exited Natasha passed him by, her own hair coated in dye and piled on the top of her head. They shared a look before she disappeared into the bathroom. 

Steve moved into the room and glanced over at Bucky spread out on one of the beds. His hair was shorter, not quite as short as when they'd been in the army, but it reminded him of the time none the less. Bucky gave him a nod with a tight smile. “Not bad, Rogers,” he said in reference to his darker hair. 

Steve shrugged and smiled weakly. “Thanks,” he said as he flopped down on the other bed. He kicked his shoes off and they made a thump as they hit the ground. In the silence they could hear the sound of the shower running. Steve fixed his eyes on the ceiling above him, the paint was cracked and peeling. Beside him he could hear Bucky as he shifted in the bed, his breath grew long and even and Steve smiled as he glanced to the next bed and saw Bucky's eyes closed. He needed the sleep. 

The shower stopped and Steve looked up at the door as Natasha exited. Her hair was damp around her shoulders, now blonde in color. He lifted his head to look at her, she seemed lost. Small in a way he never really associated with her. She hesitated at the bathroom door. 

It was just a bed. Or more specifically  _ two _ beds. But the decision felt monumental somehow.  Like it wasn't just choosing a  _ bed _ , but choosing a  _ man.  _ James was asleep, dead to the world really and Natasha smiled softly at the sight. She knew it had probably been a long time since James had slept more than a handful of hours and while she didn't expect him to sleep through the night tonight it was nice to see he'd get at least a little. She assumed it was only because of Steve's presence, of  _ her  _ presence, that he let go enough to pass out right then. 

She looked over at Steve and caught his gaze. She raked a hand through her damp hair and her lips pressed together. It took her a moment but she moved toward Steve's bed. 

“Move over,” she said softly and waited until he shifted in the bed to crawl in beside him. 

Steve turned to face her in the bed, but there was a respectable distance between them none the less. He hesitated and then reached a hand across the space to touch at one the damp ends of her hair. Natasha's breath hitched at the touch, at the want that washed over her. She pressed her lips together and let her gaze fall downward - it was too easy to get lost in his eyes when he looked at her with such desire like that. “I know,” she started softly. “It looks weird.”

He shook his head and cupped her face with his hand. “It looks beautiful,” he assured her. “You could never be anything but beautiful.”

She looked up at him from her eyelashes at that, a small and almost shy smile played on her lips. They held each other's gaze before Steve made the bold first move and wrapped an arm around her waist. He pulled her in and Natasha let her fingers trace his bottom lip. He let out a soft sigh at that. His hand moved under her shirt, his palm pressed into the small of her back as he pulled her in closer. He  _ ached _ for her, and he found himself wondering how quick they could be, how quiet, if Bucky would stay asleep long enough. 

His hand on the bare skin of her back sent sparks up her spine. She let her eyes flutter shut as Steve exhaled against her fingertips. She trailed them down the stubble that now lined his jaw and slanted her lips over his. Steve slid a hand to tangle in her damp tresses and deepened the kiss. She moaned into his mouth as she moved her her legs to hook around his. Natasha's tongue slipped into Steve's mouth and they battled for dominance as she ground against his leg, trying to find any friction that she could. Steve could feel himself harden quickly and he felt desperate with need for her. 

He had hooked an arm around her ass and was just about to pull her on top of him when Bucky stirred in the bed next to them. They both stilled and held their breath as they listened. Bucky's movements stopped for the briefest of moments before he started to thrash in the bed. 

Natasha pulled herself out of Steve's grip and quietly moved into the other bed. Steve moved to sit on the edge of his bed and watched as Natasha pulled Bucky into her arms. Her hands worked through his hair and Bucky stilled. 

“Shhhhh…” she hushed softly. “I'm here, I'm right here,” she murmured quietly against his skin as he relaxed against her.  She turned her head to lock her eyes on Steve's for a moment. His expression was troubled, eyes darkened with the same desire he'd had before but she could see it tinged with something else.

“Natalia…” Bucky let out, his voice hoarse. 

Natasha leaned her head against his and let her lips graze his temple.  She maneuvered them to lay back down, her chest pressed against his back. Her legs wrapped around his waist and she was sure they looked a little ridiculous. Her tiny frame trying to spoon his large one. But it served the purpose and he drifted back to sleep.

Steve laid back down, turned to look at the opposite wall. He didn't want to look at them. It hurt too much. The envy that burned in his veins was almost more than he could stand.  He could hear the steady tap tap of the bathrooms leaky faucet and it eventually lulled him into a pitiful sleep. 

 

__________________________

  
  


They settled in a small bungalow that Natasha has set up as a safe house years ago. Completely off the radar from everyone it would provide them a safe enough place for a while at least. The closest town was a good twenty minute walk and had not much more than a gas station, small grocery store and a restaurant. Despite the beautiful landscape and its closeness to the coast the area they settled in was fairly isolated and untravelled which suited them just fine. 

The quiet was homey as they settled into the house. Away from the world, away from people they became a world of just the three of them.  Sunsets watched from the porch. Mornings spent with breakfast as they watched the birds move about. If they tried, really tried, they could almost even forget why they were there. 

Except Bucky's ever present nightmares made that an impossibility.  Steve had taken up residence on the couch. The bungalow had only one bedroom and it had been after a long and awkward moment that Bucky and Natasha had taken the bedroom together. Which left Steve a couch to try to sleep on, too close to the bedroom to not hear Bucky's restless nights. The cries of his best friend dug at him, tore at his heart and he found himself aching with an urge to move. But he couldn't. Instead he laid, sleepless, and listened to the woman he loved try to comfort the man they both loved. 

That night was particularly bad. Even the weather seemed tuned in to Bucky as the clouds rolled in and brought in a steady rain. He had been off all day, quick to snap and deadly silent the rest of the time.  Neither Steve or Natasha had been immune to his temper and by the time they all tried to go to sleep they were all more than a little pissed off at each other.  

Steve found himself staring up at the ceiling, his body sticky with a layer of sweat brought on by the oppressive humid heat.  Thunder rolled, almost constantly, and the living room lit up with lightning in steady intervals.  From the room he could hear Bucky as he struggled with sleep himself.  Words and phrases that tumbled from the man’s lips, awful and terrible things.  Steve could hear the way Natasha tried to soothe, her voice calm but firm.  It had been an hour and she had gotten nowhere. 

“No.  No, no, no, nyet, nyet…” Steve could hear Buck start to repeat.  “NYET!” he yelled suddenly, followed by a loud crash and Steve bolted off the couch and into the room.  Bucky had Natasha shoved up against the wall, the nightstand laid askew on the ground, the floor littered with glass from a cup of water and the lamp.  Steve ignored the pinpricks as he walked over the shards, none doing any damage that wouldn’t be healed by the morning.  He reached for Bucky’s metal hand that wrapped around Natasha’s neck and pressed her into the wall, her feet strained to make purchase on the floor.  

“Bucky!” Steve cried out as he tried to pry the fingers open.  “Come on Buck, it’s us,” he continued, his voice raw with desperation.  “Don’t do this,” he pleaded and then swept Bucky’s feet with his leg.  It proved enough of a distraction and Bucky dropped Natasha to tackle Steve to the ground.  They tussled on the floor, both desperate to gain the upper hand until Steve managed to flip himself on top of Bucky and pinned the other man’s hands to the floor. 

“Enough,” he said sharply as he locked his eyes on Bucky’s.  

Bucky’s gaze lacked full recognition of Steve, but he slowly stopped his struggle and then finally Steve could see the pieces click into place.  Bucky squirmed out from under Steve and surveyed the damage to the room.  He could feel his guilt threaten to swallow him up, pull him under into the darkness.  Especially as his eyes settled on Natasha, the red marks angry and loud on the pale skin of her throat.  

“Natalia…” he said softly and started toward her but thought better of it.  His metal fist clenched at his side and he wanted to find a hole to crawl into.  

“I’m okay, James,” she assured him.  “I’m okay,” she repeated as she held his gaze and she wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince him, Steve, or herself.  

Steve moved to Natasha and gingerly raised a hand to touch her neck.  He made sure the damage was nothing serious before he searched her eyes for a moment.  “You sure?” he asked of her earlier statement and she nodded, lips pressed into a tight line.  

She nodded.  Steve watched her for another moment before he moved to start picking up the larger pieces of glass on the floor and tossed them in the garbage can while Bucky righted the nightstand.  He avoided both of their eyes as he cleaned up.  Steve took a moment to give Natasha’s hand and then he moved to Bucky. 

“You okay, Buck?” he asked quietly, though they both knew the answer.  

Bucky shrugged and sank down on the edge of the bed.  He looked over at Natasha again.  “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice heavy with the guilt of his actions. Natasha moved to sit in front of him and laced her fingers through his. 

“I'm fine, James.” She repeated again and waited until he looked at her. Natasha leaned forward and brushed her lips lightly against his. “it wasn't you,” she said softly. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Steve swallowed hard as he watched the display. He knew he should look away but found it hard to. Bucky looked wrecked, and he found himself longing to join Natasha. To move to Bucky and comfort him, repeat Natasha's words and actions. He watched as Natasha tugged on Bucky's hand as she stood, as they moved back to lay in the bed and drowned in how  _ wrong _ it felt to want to join them. He wasn't supposed to want things like that. Twisted, deviant things. 

He felt nineteen again.  All scrawny limbs and forever the outsider. Wanting what he could never have. Vivid memories of Bucky as he stumbled into Steve's apartment drunk and smelling of cheap perfume. The way some dame’s lipstick lingered on his lips when they fumbled in the dark for each other. Their moments quick, stolen…  _ wrong _ .  They weren’t supposed to want each other, not in the way a man wanted a woman.  Worse yet, they weren’t supposed to act on it.  They weren’t supposed to come together clumsily, kisses that were all teeth and tongue, hands that roamed anywhere and everywhere.  That wasn’t  _ how it was supposed to be. _  Something Steve still carried with him even now.

He caught Bucky staring at him. His arms were around Natasha and there was a heat as the two men stared at each other. Unspoken words flowed between them. A want that neither of them knew how to vocalize, that they never  _ had _ known how to vocalize. A question that burned on Bucky's lips -  _ will you join us  _ \- that he didn't dare say. It was wrong to want such a thing. Who was he to want such a thing. He, a broken shell where a man once stood, his hands stained in a way that would never come clean. And Steve. Who was everything good in the world. No, he was no one. No one who could  _ want _ , let alone ask that. 

Steve broke the the gaze. He glanced around the room one last time and then left. 

 

__________________________

 

Steve’s music drowned out most of the world still as he approached the bungalow.  His muscles burned and ached in the best way as he came down from the run.  He’d pushed himself but it felt good, a way to get out some of his frustration and restlessness.  His body longed for a fight. Or sex, he had realized. Neither of which he'd had in pushing two months. He felt restless in a way he had never known.  On edge.  It was stupid he thought, he’d gone  _ years _ after he’d been pulled out of the ice, and he’d been fine until he and Natasha had started sleeping together.  But then he supposed he’d at least had saving the world to keep him distracted.  

He walked into the bungalow, not thinking twice about it.  Which he realized as he moved towards his duffle in the living room, he  _ should _ have thought twice about it.  The double french doors that separate the living room from the bedroom were open, and as he moved to his bag he caught sight of Natasha and Bucky on the bed.   
  
He stopped.  Bucky was flat against the bed, his eyes closed in ecstasy as Natasha rode him.  Her hips rolled back and forth and Steve knew he should walk away before she noticed.  But he  _ couldn’t.  _  He was enthralled by the way her body moved, the way her breasts heaved as she moved, the sheen on her skin, the way her mouth parted as she moaned.  His eyes moved to Bucky’s hands, both flesh and metal, as they dug into her hips, and Steve paused the music on his ipod so he could hear the sounds they made.  Bucky’s low groan, that had once been  so familiar but had now been years  -  _ decades _ \- since he’d last heard them. 

His mind battled between jealousy and desire until he couldn't decide which was which. They coiled together and ran through his veins. A twisted emotion that he had never known before. Not to this degree. So much more than the envy that would rear its ugly head when he saw Bucky with the girls of their time. And Steve knew exactly why. This wasn't just some girl. This was  _ Natasha.  _   
  
Steve could feel himself stiffen as he watched.  As his mind raced with thoughts.  How easy it would be to move forward, to sink onto the bed behind Natasha and reach a hand between her legs as she kept her pace.  He could imagine how it would feel, his fingers exploring her wet folds and how they would brush against Bucky’s cock as they worked her.  He  _ wanted _ , God  _ how he wanted. _  His cock twitched in response, pressed hard against the confines of his jogging pants.  The rational part of his brain screamed at him to move, that he didn’t belong and  _ he needed to leave before one of them noticed him.   _   
  
Natasha’s eyes fluttered open and he gulped as they met his.  She seemed surprised for a moment and he waited for the inevitable.  For her look to turn to disgust. For her to yell at him to get the hell out of the house. For her to  _ stop _ .  But none of that happened. 

Instead she held his gaze as she kept moving. She didn't scream at him to get out - instead she brought her hands to her breasts. She pushed them together as her eyes stayed locked on Steve's. She rolled her nipples between her fingertips as she sucked in her lower lip. 

Steve could barely stand. He could barely  _ think _ , and he was shocked he managed to keep in the moan that lingered in his throat at the sight. His body  _ buzzed _ , and every noise of pleasure that passed Bucky's lips right went to him. It was more than he could stand. His eyes roamed Natasha's body, the pleasure in her face, and as Bucky lifted himself up he watched the taut muscles in his back. 

He swallowed hard. Natasha's eyes bore into his as he caught her gaze again. Her hands threaded in Bucky's hair and he could see her tug and pull. He stumbled back and left the bungalow.

  
__________________________

  
  


With Bucky out for a run Steve decided to take advantage of their alone time and followed Natasha into the bathroom when she declared she needed a shower.  She’d barely had a chance to get the water going before he had pushed her back against the counter and their lips clashed in a desperate, hungry kiss.  She was wet, slick,  _ ready _ , barely a minute later when he’d all but ripped her panties off of her and slid two fingers deep inside.  The groan she gave as she bit down on his shoulder as he added a third went right to him and he was so hard it actually hurt.  It’d been almost two months of not much more than a few stolen touches here and there and he’s all but drunk in the want for her.  He couldn’t decide what he wanted more as his name rolled of her tongue in between a litany of Russian profanity - to drop to his knees and taste her, or to turn her around, bend her over the edge of the counter and remind himself what it was like to be inside her.  To see her face as he brought her to the edge and replace the image from a few days prior when he’d watched her and Bucky.    
  
“Steve - oh God -  _ Steve -  _ “ she breathed out and ground herself against his hand.  “Steve, we need to - “ her words were cut off by his mouth as he kissed her again, and her hand moved to palm at him through the pants he wore before she pulled away.  “Talk, we need to talk,” she mumbled against his skin and her body shook under his touch.     
  
He stilled.  “Talk?” he asked incredulously.  “Now?  We need to talk  _ now _ ?”    
  
“Yes,” she said and slipped a hand between them to urge him to keep moving with his.  “Don’t stop, fuck Steve don’t stop,” she muttered and grazed her teeth against his shoulder as he started fingering her again.  “About James,” she went back to between shaky breaths.  

He paused but didn’t stop.  Instead he used his free hand to tug at the neck of her camisole, free her breast and sucked her nipple between his lips.  He wanted to mark her, leave his claim for Bucky to find later and know that he had been there.  He glanced up at her.  “About how you’re fucking him?” he asked sharply and shuddered at how much that didn’t sound like him.  Why couldn’t he let this go - why should you  _ have _ to he retorted to himself.    
  
Natasha moaned and dug her fingers into his back as his curled just the right way inside of her.  “No, about how you’re  _ not _ ,” she breathed out.    
  
Steve stopped at that and took a few steps back.  He just  _ looked _ at her and struggled to catch up to the sudden turn of the conversation.  “Jesus, Nat,” he got out and raked a hand through his hair and turned away from her for a moment.  “What the hell?” he said as he turned back around.     
  
“You love him,” she replied, as though she was saying the sky was blue.   
  
“I love  _ you, _ ” he countered and moved back toward her and cupped her face.  It wasn’t exactly how he had imagined that going, as a follow up to her asking why he wasn’t having sex with Bucky, but it was out there now.  “Okay, I love  _ you _ .”     
  
She swallowed hard at the confession and blinked a few times as she glanced down.  Her ankles crossed where they dangled just above the floor and her fingers dug into the edge of the counter.  He loved her.  She’d known of course - but it was different to hear it.  She felt elated and terrified all at the same time and it ached in some god awful way, the knowing that it would never be easy.  Not for them, not anymore.  

“I know,” she said and her voice broke slightly.  “But you love him too - those aren’t mutually exclusive things.”  She laced her fingers through his hand and brought it back to her thigh.   She leaned up to brush her lips over his ear as she talked.  “You can want us both, Steve.”  She uncrossed her ankles as his hand slid up between her thighs, and a small moan escaped her lips.  “You can  _ have _ us both.”  Her breath hitched as he slid a finger over her clit and then sunk it into her again.  

“God, Nat…” he mumbled out as he fucked her with his fingers, her slick heat coated him as she ground herself against him.  His lips dragged along the skin of her neck with his words. Words that sent his mind reeling, let all those thoughts he had been trying to ignore finally come loose. He lifted his head to press a searing kiss to her lips. He let himself go there. Let himself imagine it  

_ You can have us both.  _

He pictured Bucky behind him, his hand wrapped around his aching cock. Bucky's mouth as it sucked a mark on his neck while he kissed Natasha. Steve moaned into her mouth before he broke the kiss. 

He grabbed her and pulled her off the counter. Turned her around and pushed her over the sink before he fumbled out of his pants. She hissed as he thrusted his cock into her wetness. Both of them already so close, so worked up. His rhythm was frantic, hard, and his fingers yanked at her hair, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoed in the small bathroom. Along with their cries and neither of them lasted long before their orgasms overtook them. 

Natasha could barely see straight as Steve pulled out. Her legs weak and she leaned heavily on the counter to keep her upright. The inside of her thighs were slick with sweat and their fluids and her heart hammered against her chest. It had been long - too long - since he'd fucked her. Her body shuddered as Steve pressed soft kisses to her back, dainty little things in comparison to the roughness of before. 

She turned to face him and let her fingers dance over the now ever present stubble on his face.  She searched his eyes **,** uncertain if she should say what she wanted to say right then.  “I love you, too,” she all but whispered after a moment and let her eyes close as he leaned in to kiss her forehead. 

Steve titled her chin up and their lips met in a desperate kiss. Natasha was the one to pull back, reluctant as she let her gaze fall to the ground.  “I love you both,” she added, and snuck a look at him before she disappeared into the shower. 

 

__________________________

  
  


Steve stood on the beach and watched as the waves crashed against some nearby rocks. His conversation with Natasha from the day before lingered in his mind, but he had yet to act on it. He wasn't sure  _ how.   _ Waves crested up the sand and licked at his toes. He had never been the kind of person to dream of a life on the beach, but now that he was currently living it he realized why it was a dream for some people. The sound, the smell. The way Bucky and Natasha's skin had darkened in their time here. The feel of the sand between his toes. If it wasn't for the constant and nagging guilt of leaving his responsibilities behind it would have been almost perfect. 

Bucky walked up beside Steve and steadied his gaze out over the water. A small buoy bounced in the waves a good distance out, warning to any ships of rocks below. He nudged Steve with his elbow as they both took in the view. “Remember that time Dorothy Mills snuck the lot of us out to her father's lake house?” he prompted. 

Steve chuckled. He gave a quick glance to Bucky. “Yeah. You challenged everyone there to a race out to that stupid floating dock. In the middle of September. At one in the morning.”

Bucky shrugged. “Oh come on, it wasn't  _ that  _ bad.”

Steve shook his head. “I almost died. You lost to Tommy Klassen because you had to drag my sorry ass out of the water.”  Steve pressed his lips together and let his gaze settle out over the ocean again. He hadn't thought of that night since he'd driven a plane into the Arctic. When as the water filled his lungs and froze him from the inside out his last thought wasn't Peggy, but Bucky's arms dragging him out of the Mills’ lake. 

“I'm still pissed at you for that one,” Bucky teased and then turned to look at Steve. “It was worth it.”  He could remember the rest of the night. Steve's lips so blue he thought for sure he would lose him that time. Huddled under blankets together, hidden away in a spare room and away from the others. How cold Steve was when he fumbled to undress him, how warm and flush he was as they kissed, as their hands roamed each other's body. As they gave into what they knew was wrong. 

Steve broke the eye contact first and nodded back toward the bungalow. “Where's Nat?” 

Bucky cleared his throat. “She went into town to get some groceries.”  A silence settled between them and then suddenly Bucky took off into the water. “Race you to the buoy,” he yelled back at Steve as he ran into the waves. 

“Hey!” Steve yelled in reply as he followed after Bucky.

The swim out and back was fairly even paced, and neither man held back. But it was Bucky who hit the sand again first, barely out of breath as he walked out of the water. Steve followed shortly after, and bumped himself into Bucky as they walked up the beach. “You cheated,” he pointed out, “jerk.”

Bucky laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “Punk.”  He leaned heavily on Steve as they approached the bungalow.  Their heads moved in close and their walk slowed as his arm around Steve's shoulder tugged the other man in closer. 

Steve sucked in a sharp breath, Bucky's face just inches from his own. They shared a questioning glance before Steve slid a hand around the back of Bucky's neck and dragged him in, their lips clashed together. It was hesitant at first, but the pent up yearning took over and they both deepened the kiss. 

The pair stumbled into the house, a few things knocked over, they laughed at it as they moved toward the bedroom.  Steve groaned as Bucky pushed him against the wall, his lips moved down his neck. He could feel the hardness of Bucky's length as it pressed into him, as Bucky ground against his own hard cock. 

“Bucky…” Steve said, his voice a barely restrained growl as Bucky's hand ran down his chest and along the waist of his swim trunks. 

“Wanted you,” Bucky mumbled against Steve's skin as he dropped to his knees. “Wanted this so bad... “  

Steve's hand moved into Bucky's hair as he tugged down the swim trunks and freed his cock. “Me too,” he managed to get out. His other hand pressed into the wall above him, his body on fire as he felt Bucky's breath against his erection. “Fuck…” he hissed out as Bucky's tongue darted out to run along the underside of his cock before he took him fully in his mouth. “Been driving me crazy, Buck.”

Bucky's mouth slid up and down Steve's length, his hands gripped his ass.  His own cock ached for attention and he could feel precum leak from the tip. Steve's groans, his fingers tight in his hair, the firm muscle of his ass, it was so much more now that this was happening. So much better than the fuzzy memories that he hadn't even been sure were real in the first place. 

“I'm close,” Steve breathed out. Embarrassingly close, but it had been so long. He had  _ wanted  _ for so long.  His hand flexed in Bucky's hair as his balls tightened and he released himself into Bucky's mouth with a cry. 

Bucky stood and claimed Steve's lips again. Steve pushed himself off the wall and nudged Bucky back toward the bed. They fell onto the mattress and Bucky shimmied himself out of his trunks before Steve pushed him back and leaned over him. Steve brushed his lips over Bucky's again and then deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping into Bucky's mouth. They kissed like that for a  while, all open mouthed and tongues exploring as Steve let his hand wander. Bucky moaned into Steve's mouth as his hand moved over his chest.  Slow, but deliberate, Steve's hand ventured downward and then cupped Bucky's balls before wrapping around his shaft. 

Steve's thumb ran over the tip of Bucky's cock and the wetness of precum there. He used it to facilitate his stroke. A steady pace with his hand wrapped around Bucky's length. Slow at first, almost torturously so, before he quickened the pace. Like Steve, Bucky didn't last long. Not with the way he had lusted for so long now. He came all over Steve's hand as his name rolled off his lips. 

As he recovered, Steve's hand still wrapped around his cock, he started to laugh softly. He let his hand fall onto his forehead and let out a breath. “Jesus,” was all he said.

Steve's hand let go of Bucky and his forehead dropped to rest against his chest. “Agreed,” he breathed out and pressed his lips to Bucky's chest. Steve climbed out of the bed and moved to the bathroom to quickly wash his hands. He settled back into the bed beside Bucky and took a moment to kiss him deeply before he curled into him. “We really should have done that a long time ago,” he mussed. 

 

Bucky nodded and wrapped an arm around Steve.  “Better late than never?” he said with a small shrug. 

 

“We should shower,” he suggested after a long moment, but made no attempt to move. Steve nodded against his chest but didn't make any attempt either. The late afternoon sun filtered in through the window. The sound of the ocean filled the room, and the two men quickly found themselves drifting off to sleep. 


End file.
